


body marked up like a wall in the eighties

by montecarlos



Series: tattoo au [2]
Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, First Meetings, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: “Hola,” The man says, smiling back. It’s blinding. Vale is so screwed. “I’m Marc. I came in with my brother yesterday-”Brother. This beautiful man is Alex’s brother.“I was thinking it was finally time for me to get a tattoo of my own,”Valentino nods once, trying to ignore his racing thoughts of what he could brand on that perfect skin. Marc would look exquisite with Valentino’s artwork curling down his arm. He tries not to think about the various possibilities of what he could map onto this man’s skin.
Relationships: Jorge Lorenzo/Dani Pedrosa, Marc Marquez/Valentino Rossi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: tattoo au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914322
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	body marked up like a wall in the eighties

**Author's Note:**

> I have wanted to extend the tattoo universe that I explored before with Maverick and Fabio, but this story is a prequel to that one - I was really interested in how Marc and Valentino met, and I really love the idea of building a relationship from the ground with these two as it's something I don't get to do very often. I really had fun with this, choosing tattoos for the boys to coincide with their personalities. This is set like maybe two years before the start of the first fic in the series. Title comes from Ink my Whole Body by Wiz Khalifa. 
> 
> Thanks to J and L for their cheerleading abilities been on point as always, and to you for reading.

Valentino bites down on his tongue, slowly watching his pencil dance over the tracing paper. He’s halfway through the reference sketch for his client who is coming in later that afternoon when his hand slips ever so slightly, leaving a rogue thick, dark line down the middle of the design. He curses lightly under his breath as he hunts around for a rubber. He’s so preoccupied with his task, that he doesn’t hear the bell above the door over Maverick’s Spotify playlist, it’s a welcome change from Jorge usually blaring out his classic rock playlist for the hundredth time, the Majorcan finally taking a holiday away with Dani. The sound of the bell is also lost over the buzz of Maverick’s tattoo machine buzzing incessantly over the music.  
  
“Excuse me?” A voice pipes up, and Valentino snaps his head up to gaze into dark brown eyes.   
  
It’s the _guy_.  
  
The guy who had come in with Alex yesterday, the one with the perfectly tousled hair and the stupid plaid shirt over a white t-shirt combo who somehow pulled it off. Alex is one of Valentino’s regulars - his artwork is splashed all over the young man, and he had been in just yesterday to complete one of his larger pieces, an angel that sits over his shoulder in black and grey. Valentino says nothing, his eyes dancing up and down over the bare arms revealed by the guy’s rolled up shirt sleeves. He wants nothing more than to place some of his own artwork upon the man’s virgin bronzed skin.   
  
“Ciao,” He says, trying to give a warm smile.  
  
“Hola,” The man says, smiling back. It’s blinding. Vale is so screwed. “I’m Marc. I came in with my brother yesterday-”  
  
 _Brother_. This beautiful man is _Alex’s brother._  
  
“I was thinking it was finally time for me to get a tattoo of my own,”  
  
Valentino nods once, trying to ignore his racing thoughts of what he could brand on that perfect skin. Marc would look exquisite with Valentino’s artwork curling down his arm. He tries not to think about the various possibilities of what he could map onto this man’s skin. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
He thinks about the tattoos that cover Alex - the various symbols that make up the memories and parts of the young man’s life. Marc’s eyes sweep over Valentino’s own tattooed arms, at the myriad of drawings that start at his wrists and curl upwards ending in the tiger that spans the length of his bicep.  
  
“A smiley face?”  
  
Valentino feels his grin drop at the words. “A smiley face?” He repeats, dumbfounded as Marc shakes his head, grinning widely.  
  
“I’d like it right here,” Marc adds, pointing vaguely to his chest area. “I was thinking about having it in yellow? Alex mentioned that you don’t really do colour tattoos but-”  
  
“No, no. It’s fine, I’ll schedule you in,” Valentino murmurs without thinking. Jorge is usually his go-to guy for colour work, but there’s no way that he’s allowing the younger man to lay his hands (or his tattoo machine for that matter) on Marc. “How does Wednesday at 10am sound?”  
  
Marc’s grin widens. “Sounds perfect to me, I’ll see you then,”  
  
Valentino watches the younger man leave, his eyes taking in the sight of Marc’s ass clad in dark denim before he disappears back through the door, the tinkle of the bell ringing in the Italian’s ears.  
  


* * *

  
Marc arrives for his appointment ten minutes earlier than scheduled, wearing a leather jacket and carrying a motorcycle helmet tucked underneath his arm. “Morning,” He greets Valentino cheerily, who ignores the brief snicker from Maverick tattooing another one of his watercolour masterpieces onto a young woman.  
  
“Ciao,” Valentino murmurs quietly. He opens up his client binder and slides out a drawing of the smiley face. “So this is the design, I tried to keep it as simple as possible-”  
  
Marc glances down at it, noting the clean lines and the bright colours. “It’s perfect,” He grins.  
  
Valentino nods. “Right, well, if you want to take your jacket off, then we can figure out the placement-”  
  
Marc wastes no time in placing his helmet on the front desk and shrugging off his leather jacket, exposing his muscular arms, still bare and unmarked. “I wanted Alex to come with me but he said he was busy, and you were more than capable of taking care of me,”  
  
Valentino curses the younger Marquez internally as he wordlessly beckons for Marc to follow him to his tattoo area. He thought that he was being subtle when Marc had joined his brother for his tattoo session, with his stolen glances but apparently Alex had clearly seen them. He feels his mouth drop open as Marc proceeds to peel off his white t-shirt, revealing an expanse of pale golden skin and thick muscle. Valentino stares for a few seconds transfixed before Marc’s voice pulls him out of his daydream.  
  
“So maybe I was thinking right here?” He says, tapping the left side of his chest.  
  
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Valentino murmurs out, his mouth dry. He can feel his cheeks colour pink as he busies himself gathering his supplies, his fingers curling around the contact paper. He isn’t sure why he is so flustered - he’s tattooed hundreds of people before now, both male and female and he’s never blushed that way before. He remains silent as he slowly lays the contact paper down on Marc’s warm skin, pressing it down for a few moments before he peels it away, leaving the outline of the smiley face on Marc’s skin.  
  
“You sure about this, kid?” Valentino asks, watching Marc glance at the placement in the mirror.  
  
Marc glances down and the smile intensifies. “Yes, I’m sure,”  
  
Valentino pulls on a fresh pair of gloves, watching Marc lower himself into the chair, his eyes slowly taking in the sight of the ink pots and Valentino’s tattoo machine lying innocuously on the table at the side. “Are you alright?” He asks, his tone soft. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,”  
  
Marc’s dark eyes meet his own. “I want to,” He says, watching Valentino nod and pick up his machine. The buzz from the needle immediately fills the silence, breaking through the sound of the radio in the background and Valentino’s eyes hold Marc’s one last time as he dips the machine into his pot of ink.  
  
Marc jolts slightly at the prick of the needle against his skin, but it’s only for a moment before he settles back down against the chair, trying to stay as still as possible. For a few moments, the only sound is that of Valentino’s tattoo machine - and he finds himself thinking back to when he had been shading in Alex’s shoulder piece and Marc had talked incessantly about everything he could think of. Valentino can feel the younger man’s muscles tensing in pain and pauses for a moment to wipe away the excess traces of ink. “So what made you want a tattoo?”  
  
Marc worries his lip for a moment. “I don’t know, I guess seeing Alex get so many made me want one myself. He said that they were addictive, but he didn’t mention how much they fucking hurt-”  
  
Valentino chuckles. “I think your brother likes the pain,”  
  
“I don’t know how you managed to get all of those done,” Marc says, his eyes fixated on the sleeves of artwork that swirl up Valentino’s arms. “They must have hurt,”  
  
“The one on my elbow did, the one of the grim reaper,” Valentino says, moving his arm slightly so that Marc can view the drawing that curls around his inner arm, reaching down to his elbow. “But Jorge did that one so-”  
  
“Is Jorge your boyfriend?”  
  
Valentino is thankful that the machine is pulled away from Marc’s skin because he’s certain if it wasn’t, that Marc would have a solid black line streaking down the centre of his smiley face. “W-what? God no. No. Jorge is in love, disgustingly so actually. He’s married to some fancy lawyer, has a bunch of tattoos dedicated to his love. I even did the tattoo underneath his wedding ring after their wedding,”  
  
“That’s sweet, Vale,” Marc smiles, his eyes flickering back over to the dark outline that is beginning to take shape. “Do you think you’d ever get someone’s name tattooed on you?”  
  
Valentino pauses, shifting his arm to allow Marc to see the word _mama_ curling up the inside of his arm in italic script. “She hates tattoos, but I figured that I had to at least get something for her,” He says, watching Marc’s eyes dance over the words slowly. “I was all ready to do a portrait of her but she put her foot down,” He finally finishes up the outline of the tattoo and discards the needle for a fresh one ready for the colouring.  
  
He loads up on the yellow as Marc chuckles. “Maybe next time, I could get Alex’s name down my arm or something,”  
  
Valentino glances up from Marc’s skin. “I’m not putting that on you, Alex would throw a fit,”  
  
“You’re right,” Marc says, watching Valentino’s hand slowly twist over his tattoo, the needles slowly pushing the bright yellow into his skin, his other hand occasionally swiping away the excess ink. “I really wanted you to do my first tattoo, ever since I saw your work on Alex,”  
  
Valentino raises an eyebrow, still focused on Marc’s tattoo. “ With all this talk of your next tattoo, I’m beginning to think that you’re exactly like your brother and you’ll want another one almost immediately,”  
  
“I don’t think I could sit still long enough for you to work your magic, as pretty as you are to look at,”  
  
Valentino feels his cheeks turn pink at Marc’s words and their light conversation gives away to silence, permeated only by the buzz from Valentino’s tattoo machine and the faint music still blaring from the radio. Within a few minutes, Valentino finally withdraws his machine from his arm and sits back, allowing Marc to examine his new artwork. Marc’s face immediately twists into a huge smile as his eyes move over the vibrant smiley face now decorating his upper chest.  
  
“It’s perfect,” Marc murmurs out, his fingers clearly itching to brush over the design. But Valentino catches them before he can, ignoring the warmth of Marc’s fingertips against his own as he carefully wraps up the design. Marc watches him, the dark brown eyes seeming to bore into him as he reads off his usual aftercare routine.  
  
“Thanks, Vale, you’re the best,” Marc thanks him again at the front desk, the tattoo now hidden under layers of cotton and leather. He picks up his helmet and beams widely at the older man. “I’ll be back again soon,”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Jorge returns from his week off, sauntering in just after 10, with a huge smirk on his face as he hangs up another one of his hideous leather jackets. “Morning all,”  
  
Maverick replies in his customary polite tone, barely looking up from the girl’s compass tattoo (Valentino doesn’t know how he doesn’t get bored of the same old hipster dotwork shit day in, day out, especially as the girl in question incessantly flirts with him and he’s blatantly not interested in her).  
  
“How was your holiday Jorge?” Jorge asks himself, his eyes flickering to Valentino. “Oh it was great, shagged Dani’s brains out,”  
  
“Jorge, I don’t want to hear about what you did with Dani for a week,” Valentino deadpans.  
  
“Shame, you know that there’s a reason that lawyers are so good at what they do-”  
  
“Don’t you have any clients?” Valentino cuts Jorge off whilst Maverick apologises profusely to the girl, the tips of his ears turning red.  
  
“In about ten minutes. But I heard you had an interesting client,”  
  
Valentino levels Maverick with a look which the Spaniard simply ignores, his attention focused on his tattoo machine. “Traitor,”  
  
“Actually, I saw the Facebook photos of Marc practically cry-wanking the great Valentino Rossi tattooed him-”  
  
“You saw the tattoo,” Valentino’s mouth goes dry. He wasn’t proud of it, not by a long shot, but it’s what Marc wanted.  
  
“Oh, I saw it, alright. Interesting place, right on his chest though,”  
  
“Fuck you, that’s where he asked for it,” Valentino snaps, feeling defensive. He hadn’t tattooed a smiley face on an actual human being since his apprentice days.  
  
“Is that all he asked for?” Jorge smirks, and Valentino regrets allowing him to go on holiday. All the sex with Dani has clearly made the man even more insufferable than usual. He can feel the blush heat up his cheeks, and it makes Jorge’s smirk grow even wider.  
  
“For fucks sake, Jorge. He was a client and nothing more,” Valentino mutters under his breath, ignoring the fact that his cheeks are still a bright shade of pink. “Not all of us are in a sickeningly happy marriage like you are,”

“Well, judging by the gushing message that Marc left on our Facebook page about the great Valentino Rossi giving him his first tattoo, I have a feeling you’ll be hearing them soon,”  
  
Valentino throws a balled-up discarded tattoo design at the Majorcan’s head, resisting the urge to book two weeks off and give all the flash work to Jorge for the next six months.  
  


* * *

  
Marc returns to the studio two weeks later wearing the same wide grin, the motorcycle helmet tucked underneath his arm. “Just the person I wanted, I would like a new tattoo,”  
  
Valentino raises an eyebrow, lowering the pencil that he was using to trace out another design - this one not for a particular client, but for Maverick who has been asking for a tattoo to finally commemorate the completion of his training. “How is it healing?”  
  
Marc wordlessly peels down the collar of his shirt to show off the half-healed tattoo - it’s still scabbing over but it looks good. Alex has clearly passed on his own advice on tattoo care to his brother. “You were right, I really want another one,”  
  
Valentino can feel Jorge’s amber eyes baring into him as he glances up at Marc with a soft smile. “I told you they were addictive,”  
  
Marc’s eyes flash with something that Valentino can’t place. The Italian leans back in his chair, ignoring the twinges on his lower back - he had finished off a time-consuming Memento Mori tattoo on a guy yesterday, one that had taken over sixteen hours collectively of work - “so what do you have in mind?”  
  
The younger man worries his lip between his teeth. “I’m not sure, I just want something,” His eyes fall down on the paper in front of Valentino, at the rough sketch of the lion wearing a crown. “That looks amazing,”  
  
“Thanks,” Valentino feels his cheeks colour pink. “This is for my apprentice - well, he’s not an apprentice anymore, he’s a fully fledged member and whenever someone finishes their training, I give them a tattoo - I have a tiger and Jorge has a jaguar, so Maverick asked for a lion,” He watches Marc’s fingers slowly brush over the design, taking in the tiny details that he has added to the paper.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Marc murmurs, and Valentino ignores the blush that grows deeper. He knows that Jorge is still watching his every move like a hawk.  
  
“So are you wanting something similar to this?” Valentino asks, tapping the paper. “Because if you want something with colour, Jorge is better suited to the style that you’re after-”  
  
“No, I want you to tattoo me,” Marc cuts him off with a shake of the head. “This sounds stupid, but hear me out - so I ride bikes for fun and my nickname is the ant,” He bites his lip as he pulls out his phone, scrolling through his photos before he finds the one he’s looking for. “Do you think you could tattoo that on me?”  
  
Valentino glances at the photograph of Marc’s motocross helmet, at the clean straight lines of the ant standing out vividly in crimson against the dark background. “Yeah, I could do that, can you send me that photo?”  
  
Marc grins. “Sure, what’s your number?”  
  
Valentino can feel Jorge’s smirk on him as he recounts his phone number out to Marc. The younger man dutifully takes it down and immediately sends a message that makes the obnoxious tone ring out from the pocket of Valentino’s jeans. “So when will you be available?”  
  
Valentino bites his lip. He’s pretty much booked up for the next month, snowed under with requests from not only his regular clients but new ones with an appreciation for his body art. “I could squeeze you in next week, I know it’s a little early but what say Thursday at 8am?” The shop opens at 9am every day, but Marc doesn’t need to know that. And it’s clear that the younger Spaniard doesn’t know their opening times as he beams widely, thanking Valentino profusely as the Italian scratches down his name into his appointment book. He watches Marc leave the studio and hears the familiar roar of a motorcycle starting up as he glances back down at the lion he had been sketching.  
  
“Did he give you his phone number?” Jorge’s voice cuts through the buzz of Maverick’s tattoo gun in the background. “You sly fucking dog-”  
  
“It was just to show me the tattoo he wanted,” Valentino bristles at his friend’s words, fishing out the phone from his pocket to show the photo that Marc had just sent.  
  
Jorge takes in the sight of the bright ant on the helmet and smirks. “You never do colour work,”  
  
“I did your x-fuera didn’t I? That wasn’t black and grey,” Valentino knows that his tone is somewhat defensive. “Besides, I offered up your services and he wasn’t interested,”  
  
Jorge snorts. “Whatever you say, Vale. You even gave him an appointment before the shop opens, I swear to god if you get freaky on my workstation, I’ll make Dani sue you,”  
  
“Your boyfriend might be amazing at what he does, but even he would struggle to get any money out of me, Yorg,” Valentino folds his arms. He doesn’t know why Jorge is making such a big fuss over it, it’s nothing more than a design for the brother of one of his most loyal clients. It’s no big deal, he tells himself as he glances down at the photograph attached to the text message.  
  
“He’s my husband and you know that. But at least you have Marc’s number now,” Jorge teases.  
  
Valentino replies with his middle finger as the bell above the front door rings out and Jorge’s next client steps through the door. Next time, they get drunk, he’s so tattooing something even more embarrassing on his colleague than the crooked dick that sits on Jorge’s ankle.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Marc is already waiting outside the shop when Valentino arrives on Thursday morning and Valentino’s heart skips a beat at the sight of the younger man standing next to his Honda Fireblade, his helmet clutched between his hands. “Sorry I’m early,” Marc chirps with a smile. “I was so excited that I couldn’t wait any longer, I was driving Alex mad-”  
  
“It’s okay,” Valentino replies, tearing his eyes away to unlock the door to the studio. “I’ll need a few minutes to set everything up. But I’ve drawn out the design, so whilst I sort everything out, you can have a look?” He beckons the younger man into the studio, locking the door between them. It’s early enough in the morning that there’s people around and he doesn’t want any walks in right now. Valentino flicks on the lights and hands over the folder of his designs, Marc’s ant design carefully lying on the top. He busies himself with pulling out the ink bottles needed for the tattoo, filling up the tiny pots with various colours as Marc shrugs off his leather jacket, his attention focused entirely on the book, settling into the leather chair next to Valentino’s workstation.  
  
“You’re so talented,” Marc murmurs and Valentino looks up from his tattoo machine to find Marc flicking through the rest of the pages. “I can’t even draw a stick man,”  
  
His cheeks go warm at the younger man’s words. “Thanks. So you never mentioned where you want this design to go?” He slides out the contact paper, already traced with Marc’s design.  
  
“I was thinking at the top of my arm?” Marc slowly pulls up the sleeve of his t-shirt, exposing his muscular unblemished bicep. “What do you think?”  
  
“It’s always a good place to start,” Valentino murmurs. “It’s where I did my first tattoo when I was seventeen - but it was so bad that my mentor eventually managed to cover it up for me,”  
  
“What did you tattoo on yourself?”  
  
“A turtle,” Valentino scoffs. “But I liked the design so much that I got a better version on my hip a few years later - I need you to take your shirt off for this by the way,”  
  
Marc’s lips quirk at the request. “If I didn’t know any better Vale, I’d think you were doing this on purpose,” He pulls the t-shirt over his head and Valentino is met with the same unmarked pale golden skin that he remembered from their last session. The smiley face stands out starkly against his chest, the yellow still bright and endearing. Valentino wordlessly presses the contact paper down on Marc’s upper arm, and directs the younger man over to the mirror to check he’s happy with the placement. Marc stares at it for a few moments before he sinks back into the chair as Valentino loads up his tattoo machine with ink to begin the outline.  
  
Marc tenses again at the first prick of the needle against his skin. “I forgot how much it hurt,”  
  
“You get used to it,” Valentino murmurs, his eyes flickering up to meet Marc’s. “I’ve become desensitised to it by now,”  
  
Marc goes quiet as Valentino slowly begins to trace out the outline of the ant, swiping away the excess traces of ink every so often. “So why is your nickname the ant?” Valentino breaks the silence.  
  
“Because ants are small but powerful. When I started motocross, I was like this super tiny kid and my bike had to be weighted so I could race. I fought through the field to get to the top. Someone called me an ant that day and the nickname kinda stuck - and I liked the comparison, the idea that hard work, perseverance and inner strength is the way to success,”  
  
“I like that idea, my turtle is just my spirit animal. I used to race in minimoto when I was a kid and it was my mascot,”  
  
“Why did you stop racing?”  
  
Valentino pauses, lifting his machine away from Marc’s skin to show off the sizable scar that runs down the length of his right wrist. “I had a big crash when I was fifteen and the accident compressed my radial nerve to the point of paralysis - so without my right hand, I was useless. I couldn’t open and close the throttle on the bike so I needed a back up plan. I’d always been great at drawing and thankfully, my left hand still works fine so I can hold the machine,”  
  
Marc is silent for a minute as though he’s processing what Valentino said. “I’m sorry about that, Vale,” He says softly, his dark brown eyes boring into Valentino’s blue ones.  
  
“It’s fine,” Valentino replies. “Besides, I became my own boss. I get to put my artwork on people and set my own hours,” He lowers the machine back against Marc’s skin. “Have you always had a Honda bike?”  
  
“I had a Ducati a few years ago but it was a little unpredictable,”  
  
“Panigale?”  
  
Marc grins. “Yeah, it was - but I found my Fireblade and never looked back after that,”  
  
“I always wanted a R1,” Valentino says, finally pulling the machine away from Marc’s skin, the outline finally completed.  
  
“I didn’t peg you for a Yamaha man,”  
  
Valentino raises an eyebrow. “I’m not taking judgement from someone who owned a Ducati,”  
  
Marc chuckles, and they continue to make small talk about motorcycles as Valentino begins the process of shading in the ant on Marc’s skin. The needle slowly presses around in circles onto Marc’s skin as he launches into a story about when he first put Alex on a motorcycle when he was five and nearly ended up killing them both. Valentino listens intently, his attention between the tattoo that is beginning to flourish on Marc’s arm and the younger man’s stories of his youth. He’s so focused on Marc’s story about when he had ended up in a ditch in Italy somewhere with a broken wrist that he doesn’t notice the key turning in the lock.  
  
“Morning, you big gay,” Jorge’s voice calls out and Valentino looks up from the almost-finished tattoo to see the younger man standing in the doorway, wearing a smirk and one of his uglier leather jackets. “Didn’t know you had company,”  
  
Valentino sighs heavily. “You’re far too happy this morning,”  
  
Jorge opens his mouth, presumably to discuss the benefits of having a morning blowjob from his lawyer husband but Valentino cuts him off before he can continue. “Why are you here so early?”  
  
“Don’t be like that, _sweetie_ ,” Jorge all but purrs, flipping the closed sign on the door to open, and Valentino fights the urge to throw his machine at the Majorcan’s head.  
  
He focuses on finishing the tattoo in silence, ignoring Jorge’s green eyes burning a hole into his back, the Majorcan selecting yet another Red Hot Chili Peppers album to fill the silence. Valentino groans internally as he finally sits back in his chair, placing his machine down on the table next to him. Wiping away the excess traces of ink from Marc’s arm, he allows the younger man to pull himself free of the chair and examine the artwork in the mirror.  
  
“God, Vale, it’s perfect,” Marc beams, twisting his body around to admire the brightness of the ant standing out against the tan of his skin. “You’re the master,”  
  
Valentino knows that Jorge is never going to let him live that down - and he’s right. Once Marc has been wrapped up and handed the same aftercare instructions, he pays with his card, still gushing about Valentino’s genius. The bell above the door sounds out and Jorge rounds on Valentino as the familiar roar of Marc’s Honda sounds out in the background. “So did you grow a pair and ask him out?”  
  
“Of course not, I don’t fuck my clients unlike some people,”  
  
“Dani was not a client,” Jorge fires back, his eyes narrowing.  
  
“That’s funny, I could have sworn that he walked in here and you tattooed a samurai on his back six years ago-”  
  
“We ended up married though, so it doesn’t count - anyway, stop changing the subject. Why didn’t you just ask him out on a date? You haven’t been out since Linda-”  
  
“Why on earth would Marc want to go out with me, Jorge?” Valentino snaps. “He’s far too young for me, what would he possibly want to do with a thirty something tattoo artist? He’s like what 22 at most? He needs to find himself a hot young boyfriend-”  
  
Jorge scoffs. “I don’t think he wants that. Look, he wanted you to tattoo him - and after his first one, he came back for another one. I doubt that will be the last one either, he gushed about how good you are on Facebook for all to see,”  
  
“That doesn’t mean anything, Jorge and you know it - I have plenty of clients that come back for more work,”  
  
Jorge rolls his eyes as he wipes out his phone and begins to read in a high pitched voice. “First ink session today with the incredibly talented Valentino Rossi. I honestly never want anyone else to tattoo me, he is truly a genius,” He pauses as he turns his phone around to show off the Facebook post. “He added hearts too, three of them,”  
  
“Jorge-”

“Marc really likes you, why can’t you see that? You like him too, at least admit that,”  
  
“I do like him!” Valentino snarls. “But it’s never going to happen between us, so what’s the point?” However, he stops midway through his rant as chocolate brown eyes meet his own. Marc stands in the doorway of the studio with a shocked expression, clutching his helmet to his chest.  
  
“Marc-” Valentino murmurs out. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Sorry, I forgot my jacket,” Marc worries at his lip, slowly moving forward to swipe the leather garment off the couch he had left it on. 

“Right, well, my client isn’t going to be here for another twenty minutes,” Jorge cuts through the silence that is building in the studio. “So I’m going to go and grab some coffee and you two can talk,” Jorge directs the last part of his speech towards Valentino with a pointed stare before he disappears through the front door of the studio, the bell tinkling as he leaves.  
  
“Marc, I’m sorry-” Valentino begins, but Marc holds up a hand as though to stop him.  
  
“It’s okay, Vale. I understand,”  
  
Valentino bites down on his lip hard enough to taste blood. “I didn’t mean for you to hear any of that, I am so sorry,”  
  
“I meant what I said in the Facebook post,” Marc pipes up. “I don’t want anyone else to tattoo me, at first, when Alex began to get tattoos from you, I was never really interested. But you did that skullrider on his back and I remember looking at it and thinking that it was truly beautiful. He offered to let him come to his next session and I can remember seeing you for the first time,” He pauses. “I thought you were as gorgeous as the art you create,”  
  
Valentino feels his chest tighten at Marc’s words. “Marc, we barely know each other-”  
  
“Maybe not,” Marc laughs. “But I want to get to know you better,”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because you’re such an interesting person, Vale. I’ve never met anyone like you in my life,” Marc worries his lip.  
  
Valentino is rendered speechless, and the silence creeps back into the studio, the faint sound of By the Way fading into the background.  
  
“Did you mean it?” Marc asks, his voice shaky as he lifts his gaze to meet Valentino’s. “Do you like me too?”  
  
Valentino’s tongue swipes over his dry lips. “I do,”  
  
Marc steps forward, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know when two people like each other, they kiss?”  
  
“Oh?” Valentino begins, only for Marc to fist his hand into the front of his t-shirt and pull him into a kiss. His lips are dry and chapped, but Marc feels right against him. His hand twists into the fabric of Valentino’s shirt as the older man’s hands reach up to cup at Marc’s face, drawing him deeper into the kiss, his eyes falling shut. Marc groans against his lips, his other arm wrapping around Valentino’s neck, his tongue slowly teasing against the seam of the Italian’s lips. It’s insistent and not what Valentino was expecting but he opens his mouth, and Marc’s tongue brushes against his own. His heart thunders against his chest as the kiss deepens, his thumb brushing shakily against Marc’s cheek - he doesn’t want this to stop, every nerve ending in his body is ignited, his body melts against the shorter man’s. Marc clings to him, his fingernails still scratching at his skin as his tongue slowly traces over every inch of his mouth as though to commit it to memory. Valentino feels the satisfied groan pull from between his lips, kissing Marc back with equal ferocity -  
  
“God, will you two get a room?” Jorge’s voice cuts through the atmosphere and the two men reluctantly pull apart, still panting at the exertion. However, Valentino’s attention is focused solely on Marc - on the mussed hair and the swollen lips that he created.  
  
“Do you fancy doing this again some other time?” He blurts out.  
  
Marc grins widely. “I’m free at seven tonight. I’ll text you the address,” He winks at Valentino, which does things to the older man, making his chest flutter. Marc turns on his heel, snagging his jacket from the couch before he leaves the studio again. Valentino watches him leave, his lips still tingling from Marc’s kiss.  
  
“Well, Maverick owes me fifty euros,” Jorge says, smugly, taking a sip from his coffee cup.  
  
“Shut up, Jorge,” Valentino mutters, but he can’t wipe the smile from his face that Marc has placed there. 


End file.
